The Silent Name

The fire flickered between them, throwing long shadows across the stone outcrop where they had made camp. Ryn's grip tightened around the hilt of his blade as the figures stepped into the firelight. They were cloaked, their faces hidden beneath deep hoods, but the way they moved—smooth, deliberate, confident—sent a ripple of unease through him.

Lyara had an arrow nocked, her bowstring taut, waiting for the slightest reason to lose it. Korin shifted his weight, a throwing dagger already palmed, while Serafina's fingers danced at her side, where Ryn knew she could summon her resonance in an instant. Despite the exhaustion from their journey, every one of them was ready for a fight.

The tallest of the figures spoke first, his voice rough like stone grinding against metal. "You've seen the mirror, haven't you?"

Ryn's pulse quickened. "Who are you?"

The figure didn't answer directly. Instead, he lifted a hand, revealing the mark etched into his palm—a sigil Ryn had seen before. A broken circle with an arrow through it, the same symbol engraved at the entrance of the ruins they had just escaped.

"The past calls to you, Ryn. And you have answered."

A gust of wind howled through the camp, scattering embers into the darkness. Ryn could feel the weight of the Silent Name pressing against his chest again, stirring in response to this stranger's words.

"We're not looking for trouble," Korin said, though his stance remained defensive.

The hooded figure let out a quiet chuckle. "Then you should have never stepped into that ruin."

Ryn felt it before he saw it—the air shifting, the crackle of energy humming just beneath the surface. The stranger's resonance ignited, tendrils of deep crimson light flaring from his outstretched fingers. It was unlike anything Ryn had seen before—thick, almost liquid in nature, writhing as though alive. A resonance infused with something deeper than power alone.

Blood magic.

Serafina reacted first, her own resonance flaring to life—a deep, azure glow that cast eerie shadows against the rock walls. "Stay back," she warned, her voice low. "We won't ask twice."

The other figures fanned out slightly, though none drew weapons. Instead, the leader took a step closer. "If we meant you harm, you'd already be dead. But you've touched something beyond your understanding, and now there are those who will come for you."

Ryn narrowed his eyes. "Who?"

"The Houses. The true Houses."

The weight of the words hung between them, thick with meaning. Ryn had heard enough whispers to know there were forces within the Fifteen Houses that worked in shadows, pulling strings that even the highest-ranking members were unaware of. He had never given much credence to the rumors before.

Now, he wasn't so sure.

"You've set things into motion that cannot be undone," the hooded man continued. "The Silent Name is no longer just a secret—it is awake. And those who fear it will seek to erase its vessel before it can fully awaken."

Ryn swallowed, his mind racing. Vessel. The word felt too heavy, too final. As if he had already lost the right to choose his own path.

Lyara didn't lower her bow. "Why should we trust anything you say?"

"Because whether you believe us or not, the hounds are already on your trail."

As if on cue, a distant howl cut through the night air.

Not an ordinary animal. Something else.

The strangers tensed, their cloaks shifting slightly as they turned toward the sound. "They found us faster than I expected," the leader muttered. Then his gaze snapped back to Ryn. "If you want to survive what's coming, follow us."

Korin scoffed. "And just like that, we trust you?"

The leader turned back toward the darkness. "It's either that, or you face them alone."

Another howl, closer this time.

Ryn felt the cold grip of inevitability closing around him. He exchanged a glance with Serafina, who gave a barely perceptible nod. Lyara's grip on her bow tightened, but she didn't lower it. Korin exhaled sharply through his nose, but he, too, fell into line.

The strangers moved quickly, leading them away from the dying fire and into the maze of craggy rock formations that lined the foothills. Their pace was relentless, forcing Ryn and the others to push themselves to keep up.

Behind them, the howls grew into a chorus, and then—footsteps. Heavy, armored, relentless.

Then the first shadow moved.

Ryn barely had time to react before the attack came. A hulking shape lunged from the darkness, its form obscured by the night, but its presence unmistakable—pure malice given form. He threw himself to the side as claws raked across the stone where he had stood just moments before.

Korin moved like lightning, his dagger flashing as he slashed at the creature's side. It let out a guttural snarl, barely hindered, and swung a massive arm toward him. Korin ducked, but not fast enough—he was sent sprawling against the rocks.

"Move!" one of the hooded figures barked. "More are coming!"

Serafina's resonance flared, sending a wave of energy crashing into the creature's side, buying them precious seconds. Ryn reached for his own power, but the moment he did, the sigil over his heart pulsed violently.

His vision swam.

For a split second, the world around him twisted—he was no longer in the rocky foothills but standing atop a battlefield of fire and ruin. The same vision from before. The throne. The bodies. The weight of a crown he had never worn.

And then—

A voice, deep and commanding. "You are not ready."

Then he was back.

The beast loomed over him, claws raised to strike, but Ryn reacted on instinct, bringing his blade up just in time to catch the attack. The impact sent a tremor up his arm, but he didn't falter. He twisted, driving the point of his sword into the creature's shoulder, forcing it back.

The hooded strangers took that moment to act. Their leader surged forward, his blood-red resonance igniting in a violent flash, striking the creature with a force that sent it crashing to the ground. It convulsed once, then fell still.

More were coming.

"We don't have time for this," the leader snapped. "Move!"

Ryn didn't hesitate this time. He grabbed Korin's arm, pulling him to his feet, and together they ran, following the hooded figures deeper into the unknown. The sounds of pursuit did not lessen, but something in Ryn had shifted.

The Silent Name was awake. And for better or worse, so was he.